


The Adventuring Prince and The Drake of Roses

by zeekubeast



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Creampie, Dragon AU, Excessive Banter, High Fantasy AU, Knotting, M/M, Trans Claude von Riegan, Vaginal Sex, Xenophilia, lorenz is a dragon and claude is gonna ride him HEYOO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22376521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zeekubeast/pseuds/zeekubeast
Summary: Claude von Riegan, intrepid adventurer and prince-in-disguise, has heard tale of the legendary Staff of Thyrsus, and just so happens to know that the surviving heirs would probably pay a pretty penny to get it back. However, his adventuring brings him face-to-face with the Drake of Roses, the Great Wyrm of Gloucester himself, Lorenz. Claude will have to think fast to save himself from being mauled by disgruntled but refined dragon.Written for Day 4 of Claurenz Week 2020: Dragons
Relationships: Lorenz Hellman Gloucester/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 143
Collections: Claurenz Week: Winter 2020





	The Adventuring Prince and The Drake of Roses

Legend tells of the Staff of Thyrsus, a wand of grand power that will only answer to a worthy wielder for it was formed by the hands of the Goddess Herself. The staff had been the possession of fabled heroes in years bygone, but then some dunderhead had gone and lost the thing in a dragon’s lair a few centuries ago.

Claude didn’t necessarily consider himself a worthy wielder of the staff, but he had read enough about lost relics to know that those who found them again were often handsomely rewarded. Which was reason enough for him to brave the enchanted vines of the Rosebriar Woods, slink past the cursed statuary of the Forbidden Gardens and enter the stately ruins of the Drakeden Palace.

As presumed dragon’s lairs went, it was quite pretty. The ruins were draped in ivy and flowering vines, and most of the roof looked structurally sound. Claude had carefully made a sweep of the exterior, noting all the possible entrances before he had snuck in under the cover of low morning mist. His research had implied that dragons were more prone to hunting at dusk and, being indolent creatures as a rule, they weren’t much for rising with the sun. Claude didn’t necessarily believe that there _was_ a dragon in residence, but hey, better to be over-prepared than the alternative. There were more than enough stories already about heroes getting unceremoniously eaten by monsters.

Still, as he crept on padded soles through vacant halls, he felt like maybe this was just an old building and not a lair. There was a suspicious lack of the typical signs of dragon habitation. No piles of skeletons, no conspicuous bloodstains or scorch marks on the marble floors, not even the telltale scent of brimstone wafting through the air.

 _Just as well,_ Claude thought. It would be much easier to sneak past a nonexistent dragon than a live one. He was only here for the staff, after all. And maybe to stuff his pockets with some coins for the road. He had no interest in being the kind of adventurer that fought dragons in their own lairs—those kind of adventurers often ended up dead. Being paid for his troubles and gaining a bit of public favor was glory enough for Claude, thank you very much. So the idea of the dragon being fictitious was not at all a disappointing thought.

The palace was grand and suitably labyrinthine in its construction. The many halls and alcoves would probably leave your average explorer lost for days on end as they tried to scour every nook and cranny, but Claude was more than familiar with the structure of palaces, having spent enough time wandering the non-abandoned ones. And besides that, he had a specific target in mind. It only took him a few hours to find the gallery; it was the most ornate (and fortified) room in the building, which made it ideal for storing treasure. Claude regarded the immense double-doors with his arms akimbo. Now the real work could begin.

The ancient lock was picked in a trice, much to his delight. Claude smirked in triumph as the heavy double doors swung open to reveal a veritable trove. The corners of the room were piled high with gold and jewelry and gilded tableware and precious gems and more gold. Magical lights illuminated the room in sconces, their flickering making the room glitter like ripples of sunlight on water.

 _Even if I don’t find Thyrsus,_ Claude thought, _I can make this worth my time._

Eyes filled with the gleam of gold, Claude stepped across the threshold… directly on to a magical glyph. The floor tile lit up beneath him, the spell humming to life at his touch.

“Oh shit,” was all Claude could say before he was consumed by a flash of violet light.

“Well then, what do we have here?” A silken voice pierced through the fog of Claude’s mind. “You’re certainly the boldest thief I’ve met to have made it this far.”

“Hey, I’m not a thief,” Claude replied as he struggled awake. He blinked the enchanted sleep from his eyes. He was prone, his limbs bound, probably by magic since he couldn’t feel any knots. How had he got here? Where even was ‘here’ for that matter?

His captor scoffed from somewhere nearby. “If you’re not a thief, why do you have a set of lock picks?”

“They’re tools of my trade,” Claude said, stalling for time. He craned his neck in the direction of the voice and gasped at the sight.

A dragon—a real fucking living and breathing _dragon!_ —sat on its haunches before him. It was the size of a draft horse, but all the more terrifying for its predatory teeth and talons. Dim sunlight dappled across its amethyst hide, turning the scales a glittering iridescent. Its eyes were a fathomless indigo, gleaming with intelligence, and at its throat it wore a collar of rubies so dark they looked like roses.

“And what trade would that be my good sir?” The dragon’s voice dripped with skepticism as it arched an elegantly scaled brow.

“I—“ Claude fumbled for words. He was dumbstruck. “I-I am a—“

“Yes?” The dragon asked dryly. It was surprisingly snippy in attitude for a creature of legend. The dragon tapped its talons impatiently, like a gentleman drumming his fingers during a particularly dull dinner conversation. It reminded Claude more of an irritable noble than a fire-breathing monster.

The part of Claude’s brain that was dedicated to survival decided “I can work with that,” and he pulled out his most silver tongue to save himself.

“Please forgive my stammering, Ser Dragon! I was so taken aback by your magnificence that all sense of speech fled my mind.”

“Hmph. Very well,” the dragon conceded, momentarily appeased by the flattery. “But you still haven’t answered my question, so I will re-iterate. What is your trade that it requires you to carry such tools of subterfuge?”

“Why, I’m an archaeologist,” Claude replied. His mouth was well and truly running away with him now. “I enter into abandoned buildings to find the lost treasures of history and bring them back so that people can regard them again.”

“That still sounds a lot like theft.”

“Oh, not at all, Ser Dragon. One can’t steal things that don’t have owners. And besides, archaeologists are all gentlemen of culture and education; it’d be dishonorable to the profession to compare them to thieves.” Claude glanced around the room as he spoke. He wasn’t in the treasury anymore, that much was for sure. But it was hard to get past the sight of the _dragon_ looming over him to think of an escape route.

“Be that as it may,” the dragon sniffed, “this palace is _not_ abandoned and its contents _do_ in fact have an owner.”

“Of course, Ser Dragon, but you’ll pardon me for thinking it was abandoned.” The dragon gave him a withering look and Claude rapidly explained himself. “Only, that is to say, that the state of the exterior hardly matches your elegant self!” Claude put on his best ingratiating smile as he continued, “In fact, might I offer my services to aid in its restoration? That’s another thing us archaeologists do.”

“Is that so?” The dragon raised a claw to its chin, regarding Claude with cool consideration. It sighed deeply, releasing a small gout of flame. Claude could feel the sweat on the back of his neck.

“It pains me to admit, but the gardens _have_ become somewhat overgrown…” The dragon muttered.

“If you released me, I could go find some other able-bodied ad— _archaeologists_ to handle the undertaking,” Claude blurted out. He winced inwardly at his guileless bid for escape.

The dragon regarded him with its piercing gaze. “Hmm. And why should I do that? You’ve entered into my home without invitation—your ignorance not-withstanding—and were caught in a snare meant for thieves.”

“But I haven’t actually stolen anything,” Claude pointed out. “All I did was open a door. That’s not exactly a crime where I’m from.”

“And where are you from, Sir-” The dragon faltered for a moment. “Ah, I don’t believe I got your name?”

“That’s because you didn’t give me the chance to introduce myself! I’ll forgive you the impropriety since we both have each other at a disadvantage.” Claude added a roguish wink, hoping to keep the dragon off balance. He cleared his throat. “Claude von Riegan, intrepid ad- _archaeologist_ , at your service. I’d bow, but it seems my limbs are tied.”

The dragon folded its claws, amused. “Your glib tongue must be another of your archaeologists tools, Claude von Riegan. Thieves aren’t known for courtly manners.”

“Indeed they aren’t but neither are creatures of legend,” Claude replied. This was rapidly becoming a game of verbal fencing. Perhaps if he got the dragon talking he could forestall his demise long enough to actually think of an escape. He continued hurriedly. “Might I be so bold as to ask _your_ name? It’s only fair since I gave you mine.”

The dragon tutted lightly. “I suppose it is only good manners…” It drew itself up, craning that elegant neck to its full height. “I am Lorenz, the Drake of Roses, the Violet Flame, the Last Great Wyrm of Gloucester.”

“Lorenz,” Claude said breathily. “A beautiful name for the most handsome of the Goddess’ creations. You do me great honor by gracing me with your presence,” he hesitated, “… and your patience.”

The dragon— _Lorenz_ —puffed out his chest in a self-satisfied manner. Whatever Claude had read about dragons might or might not be true, but seeing Lorenz practically preening at a few compliments was evidence enough for Claude to believe the tales of draconic vanity. At last, an angle for him to work.

“You know,” Claude began, wetting his lips. “It’s quite the tragedy that this palace has been forgotten, especially when a creature so magnificent of yourself holds dominion here. I’d bet that if it were known that a regal dragon such as yourself still existed, you’d find many a person willing to dedicate themselves to maintaining your estate for you.”

“Is that so?” Lorenz asked, still smug from the praise.

“Definitely.” Claude took a deep breath and summoned a smile from Goddess only knew where. “I mean, none of the depictions of dragons could even hold a candle to seeing the real thing in the flesh. Your scales glitter like gems, your eyes are as wise as the night, and your diction is more profound than a philosopher’s! You, Ser Lorenz, the Drake of Roses, are a sight to behold! Any mortal with sense in their brains would proffer their very _souls_ before your magnificence.” He coughed lightly. “My offer still stands, by the way, of finding some upstanding humans like myself who would surely be _delighted_ to join your retinue. I happen to know of some _excellent_ crafts-persons and—”

Lorenz chuckled, a deep, throaty sound that seemed to echo in the dragon’s chest. Claude gulped.

“You’ll have to set a higher bid than that if you want your freedom,” the dragon purred ominously. “But by all means, please continue to bid for it. Your flattery is charming, even if your motives are obvious.”

“You’re not planning on eating me, are you?” Claude blurted out.

“What?! Absolutely not!” Lorenz snorted smoke, offended. “Where on earth did you get such an absurd idea?!”

“We-e-ell,” Claude spoke out the side of his mouth. “There is a commonly held belief about dragons and princesses and—y’know what? I’ll spare you the hearsay.”

Lorenz sneered in pure, unadulterated disgust. “And humans believe that they get _eaten_? Ridiculous.”

Claude paused. The question weighed heavy in his mind, as did the precariousness of his situation. Curiosity got the better of him. “If they don’t get eaten, what happens to them?”

“What do you mean ‘what happens’?! They live with the dragon who asked for them, of course.” Drawing his neck up to its full height, Lorenz elucidated. “Dragons collect treasured things, and royalty is certainly among them. Princesses make excellent companions for dragons, what with their careful educations, making them well-versed in conversation and other such pleasant facets of high society.” He spoke with such conviction that Claude almost believed him.

“ _Companions?_ ” Claude asked, eyebrows raised.

“Indeed,” Lorenz replied, not catching his drift. The dragon sighed, and somewhat wistfully muttered “I’ve often thought it might be nice to speak with a princess.”

“Huh.” Claude smacked his lips. “I never knew that.”

He paused, considering his options. They couldn’t get much worse, frankly, so Claude said to hell with it once more.

“By the way, if I told you that I used to be a princess, would that change your opinion of me?”

The look of absolute befuddlement on Lorenz’s face alone was worth admitting that secret. Claude would have laughed, if he wasn’t still doubting his life expectancy. The dragon shook his head free from the astonishment and snorted dark puffs of smoke.

“Now you’re just outright lying to me,” he accused.

“No, no! Honest!” Claude tried to make a soothing gesture, but his bound hands simply flapped at his side. “I _used_ to be a princess, but—well, ah… How do they say it in Fódlan? ‘I became a.. follower of St. Cichol’ or something like that?”

Comprehension dawned on the dragon’s face. “Oh!” He squeaked, then cleared his throat. “Ahem—I see. But then, wouldn’t that make you a prince?”

“If you want to be technical about it, I am,” Claude replied wryly.

“You must be joking.” Lorenz pursed his lips in disapproval. “If you _were_ a prince, why would you be sneaking into a dragon’s lair dressed like a common thief? Have you been disinherited, or is there some other reason you’ve forsaken your royal duty to become an adventurer?”

“Hey!” Claude interjected. “I’m an archaeologi-”

“Oh please stop insulting my intelligence.”

There was a tense moment of silence as Lorenz held Claude’s gaze imperiously. Claude prided himself on having a good face for bluffing, but those night-sky eyes felt like they were staring into his soul or something. He looked away, flustered.

“Okay, fine, you got me! I’m an adventurer,” Claude admitted, not without reluctance. “And a prince! Incognito, as it were. I’m not exactly popular in my homeland because my mother comes from a nation of ‘cowardly barbarians’—it’s a long story, not very interesting, really.” He shrugged his shoulders against his bonds, wishing he could gesture. “My plan _was_ to recover some lost relics, gain a bit of fortune on my own, gain some renown—you know, all that good stuff—and _then_ go back to claim my place as crown prince after I’ve proven my worth with my own merits.”

Lorenz arched his eyebrows as he listened to the rambling explanation. “I suppose that does explain,” he mused.

“Listen, Lorenz? I really don’t like my odds of fighting you, so I was thinking perhaps—since you’re so interested in royalty—we could come to some sort of agreement?” Claude asked in his most sincere, I-could-be-your-friend-here tone of voice.

Lorenz simply squinted at him. “What are you proposing?”

“An exchange of services for goods,” Claude replied. “Or at least for you letting me leave this place alive.”

“… Elaborate.”

Claude tried not to let his relief show too much as he breathed deeply. His foot was only in the metaphorical door. This could still very easily metaphorically slam shut in his face, or worse.

“Well,” he began jauntily, “I was only after one thing, really. The Staff of Thyrsus—maybe you’ve heard of it? Anyway,” he continued in a hurry, “if you let me return it to its rightful owners for my share of coin, I’d be happy to spend some time as your… _royal companion_.” Claude gave the dragon a hearty wink.

Lorenz’s eyes widened in surprise. The dragon dithered, clearly flustered by the offer.

Claude seized the moment to continue his sales pitch, voice a little lower, a little more flirtatious. “I could tell you some courtly gossip… Rub your scales, maybe? Or whatever it is you like—within the limitations of my mortal form, of course.”

“That is… not unappealing,” Lorenz said diplomatically. He cleared his throat, firming up his resolve. “But I still have no reason to trust you, Claude von Riegan.”

“Then give me a chance to _earn_ your trust,” Claude cajoled. “Why not untie my bonds first? I promise not to run away.”

There was another pause, heavier this time, as the dragon considered Claude’s words. It was a measured gamble; dragons were creatures of law, and even upholding a simple vow like that would be a demonstration of Claude’s ‘good character’… or so he hoped.

“… Very well,” Lorenz said.

He made a gesture with his claw and spoke in a voice so resonant that Claude could feel it in his bones. _Magic_ , Claude thought as his invisible bonds dissolved in a shimmer of violet, and suddenly his arms were free to move once again. With a groan he sat up, rolling his shoulders against the stiffness of lying on the ground for too long, before shooting Lorenz a quick “thanks” as he stood.

No longer confined to the floor, Claude was finally able to get his bearings. It was a cosy little den, for want of a better word. Gossamer curtains covered the windows of the far wall, letting in streams of golden late-afternoon sunlight that dappled across the polished wooden floor, the grand marble hearth, and Lorenz’s scales. There were no doors, only an archway that was definitely large enough for a dragon to move through with ease. Speaking of which, Lorenz was sitting on a beautifully woven carpet of woad blues and rose madder reds—Claude hadn’t been able to see it from his bound position.

He gave an appreciative whistle as he took in the room. “Looks even better when I’m standing up.” He turned towards Lorenz. “What was that thing you just said by the way? I didn’t recognize the language.”

“Ancient Draconic, of course.”

“I see,” Claude replied. He rubbed the back of his neck, gathering his thoughts.

Lorenz cleared his throat delicately. “So, if you are a prince, where do you hail from?”

“Ah, yes! Let me re-introduce myself,” Claude said brightly. He extended a leg, opposite arm swept out as if gesturing with a cape as he bowed deeply. “I am Claude von Riegan ibn-Arash Al-Amjad, the Crown Prince of Almyra.” Claude raised his face to look up at Lorenz, the sun glittering in his eyes. “At your service, Ser Lorenz, Drake of Roses.”

Lorenz blinked at him, eyes wide in surprise. Then the dragon seemed to recover himself and answered, a little flustered, “Charmed to make your acquaintance, your Highness.”

“Call me Claude,” he replied, straightening up with an easy smile.

“Mm. Ah,” Lorenz demurred. “So! Almyra, was it? That’s quite far away.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad. I’ve been traveling Fódlan for…” Claude chuffed and waved his hand vaguely, “four, nearly five years now? The novelty of forests hasn’t worn off yet, I can tell you that.” He chuckled weakly. “But I doubt I’ll earn your trust by talking your ear off about my travels.”

“On the contrary,” Lorenz said in a sprightly tone. “I find that listening to tales is a good way to get the measure of a mortal.”

Claude cocked his head in interest. “If that’s the case, then why don’t we make an evening of it? I’d be fascinated to hear some tales from _your_ perspective, Ser Lorenz,” he suggested with a waggle of his eyebrows. “Oh, and while we’re at it, could I have my bag back? It’s only that I left my wineskin in there, and my throat is feeling rather parched.”

It wasn't much later that Claude found himself sitting on the gorgeous carpet in front of the fireplace, with Lorenz right next to him. The dragon had returned his bag (though not before thoroughly inspecting its contents) with Claude's wineskin intact, and then brought up a small cask of wine for himself which he lapped at daintily while Claude told him stories of his travels.

Lorenz turned out to be an excellent conversationalist. He listened attentively, rarely interrupting, and when Claude mentioned something that was particularly noteworthy, Lorenz would pick at the details with the fastidiousness of a watchmaker. And the dragon could tell stories well, too. His tangents were occasionally longwinded—at one point he tried to make Claude understand the difference between two regional kinds of biscuit that had similar names but, Lorenz assured him, were _entirely distinct_ —but they gave Claude a chance to recover his breath and drink his wine. By the time true dusk had fallen, Claude felt comfortably toasty and was sitting lazily with his legs nearly sprawled into Lorenz’s space.

“You know,” Claude began, pretending to contemplate his near-empty wineskin, “there’s another story about dragons and humans that they tell sometimes in Almyra. If it’s not too crass, could I ask you whether it’s true?”

“I don’t know what could be more crass than _eating_ someone.” Lorenz tossed his head with a derisive snort. “But by all means. I’m curious as to what other outlandish things you’ve heard.”

“Your comment about dragons taking ‘royal companions’ is what reminded me of it.” Claude explained, then cleared his throat. “But… They say that heroes are born when a dragon and a human…” he gestured with his head, looking up at Lorenz with heavy-lidded eyes, “You know. Become _companions._ ”

Lorenz’s nostrils flared (literally) and he quickly turned his head aside to stare into the fire.

“Is… Is that a thing they say?” He asked, hesitant.

“Yep,” replied Claude. “Is it true?”

The dragon cleared his throat awkwardly. “I- would not know from personal experience…” He trailed off, jaw caught open on the inhale.

“… But?” Claude prompted gently.

“There have been- reports,” Lorenz continued, stilted. “Of dragons taking humans on as- uh… _more_ than companions.” He cleared his throat again. “There’s legend that Saint Cethleann was half-dragon.”

Claude’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He mentally scrambled to what remember what he could of the saints of Fódlan—Cethleann was Cichol’s daughter if he remembered? In which case-

“No shit?” Claude exclaimed.

Lorenz wrinkled his snout in distaste, “Language.”

Claude chuckled, leaning back. “Sorry. My courtly manners are a little rusty from pretending to be a common adventurer. And this wine is loosening my tongue.” He gave Lorenz a sly look, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as he added under his breath “… Among other things.”

“So!” Claude said more clearly. “Ser Lorenz. What exactly _were_ your fantasies about having a princess for a companion, if I might ask?”

“N-nothing untoward, I assure you!” He replied, clearly flustered. “Merely- conversation about current events and politics and philosophy and… such things.” Lorenz took a steadying sip of his wine. “Poetry, perhaps, if she was inclined. I have tried my hand at verse, but it’s so very hard judge one’s own work accurately…”

“My, aren’t you a regular gentle-drake,” Claude said fondly. He sighed. “I must be pretty disappointing as your first royal acquaintance.”

“Not at all!” Lorenz interjected with surprising passion. “You are a most engaging conversationalist. Not what I expected, of course, but that simply makes you all the more intriguing. Your suspicious methods aside, you are a very charismatic man, Claude, and I am glad to have met you.”

Claude stared, surprised at the sincere and earnest compliment. He smiled, an easy, genuine smile, for the first time since he had entered the palace.

“Thank you, Lorenz,” he said, and meant it.

Another silence fell around them, but it was a comfortable one this time. They both gazed into the hearth, watching the fire as it merrily crackled away. Claude looked at Lorenz out of the corner of his eye. Not for the first time that night, he sized up the dragon sitting next to him. He certainly was a magnificent creature, Claude had to admit. The firelight danced over his scales, making them glimmer like ripples in violet water. His neck was long and beautifully curved, his horns the colour of polished charcoal. Claude hadn’t seen him unfurl his wings yet, but the span must have been at least twice the length of the dragon from nose to tail, he guessed. And beyond all that, he had beautifully intelligent eyes of the deepest indigo. They made Claude think of the night sky before the creep of dawn; an infinite expanse filled with stars that he had dreamt of falling into as a child.

“Will you let me leave?” Claude asked softly, breaking the silence.

Lorenz sighed heavily.

“I suppose so,” the dragon murmured. He sighed again, softer. “Perhaps it is the wine, but I can’t find an unselfish reason to keep you prisoner. You haven’t taken anything, so I suppose the only noble thing to do would be to let you leave unharmed.”

Claude hummed skeptically. “It doesn’t sound like either of us would be satisfied with that ending,” he pointed out. “Especially since I’d be leaving empty-handed.”

“You don’t exactly have anything to trade for Thyrsus,” Lorenz said flatly.

“Don’t I?” Claude asked. “I offered myself as your royal companion, earlier. That offer still stands, you know.” He turned his face to give Lorenz his best smile, his voice warm and rough from the wine. “If you let me take the staff, I’ll come back to you after I’ve delivered it.”

“I…” Lorenz visibly wavered as he considered. “Um. By… ‘companions’—do you mean…?”

Claude winked. “That too, if you’ll have me.”

Lorenz gave a high, nervous laugh and cleared his throat. He turned his face back to the fire, but Claude could see the dragon’s eyes flicker, glancing back at him again and again. Seized by impulse, Claude licked his lips and stood, hands resting on his belt.

“Will you allow me to persuade you, Ser Lorenz?” He asked, sultry sweet.

Lorenz met his gaze, and inhaled quietly. “… Please do,” he answered, settling on his forelimbs.

Confidence buoyed by the wine and his audience, Claude grinned as he thumbed the brass buckle of his belt and said “I always thought the best part of getting a gift was seeing it unwrapped.” He dipped his hand down the inside of his thigh to unlace the top of his cuissardes. He kicked them off, first left, the right, letting the tall boots fall into a pile next to the dark green traveler's cloak that he had shed by the fire.

Next was his leather jerkin and doublet. Claude undid the buttons, unable to contain his grin as he watched Lorenz watch him. There was something in that ancient, inhuman stare that put a thrill in Claude’s belly as he slowly shed his layers. Lorenz’s attention was entirely on Claude, fascinated, _captivated._ The tip of his sinuous tail twitched with excitement when Claude half-turned to give him a better view as he stripped out of his riding breeches and hose.

“Like what you see so far?” Claude asked the dragon when he was bare but for his breechclout.

Lorenz swallowed and licked his lips. “Very much,” he answered softly.

Claude cocked his hip and smirked. He ran a hand over his chest, fingers raking through the coarse hair that was his personal pride, following the dark stripe that disappeared underneath the soft linen. His fingertips traced the waistband over to his hip, pausing to toy with the simple knot that was the only thing left between him and nudity.

“So, have I convinced you yet?” he asked.

Lorenz let out a quiet chuckle. “You have.”

“Would you like to see more?”

Lorenz bowed his head in shyness. “I would.”

A flick of the wrist and the knot was undone, leaving Claude bare as a babe. He padded up to the dragon, hips swaying, until he was only a foot away. Lorenz regarded him, clearly appreciative. The dragon’s tongue darted out to lick his lips.

Claude’s grin widened. “Would you let me kiss you?”

“Oh!” The dragon nearly squeaked. “Um. Yes.”

Claude took one of Lorenz's taloned hands and bowed his head to kiss the knuckles. He looked up at him through his eyelashes. Lorenz didn't blush, exactly, but his face was expressive enough that Claude could see he was flustered.

With a smirk, Claude continued to up the ante. He kissed along the scaled arm, all the way up to the hollow of the dragon's throat and let his tongue dart out to taste him. It was faintly metallic, but not unpleasant. Claude scraped his blunt teeth along the edge of a scute. Lorenz made a rumbling noise that reverberated through his chest. It sounded somewhere between a purr and a roll of thunder.

“That feel good?” Claude asked.

Lorenz nodded, his throat bobbing. “Quite.”

Claude rubbed his palms over the dragon’s chest, marveling in the texture of smooth scales. He cocked his head back to meet Lorenz’s gaze. “Bet I can make you feel even better if you lie on your back,” he said with a soft smirk.

It was somewhat awkward to maneuver, but Lorenz managed to lie on his back with his neck craned to watch as Claude straddled the barrel of his chest. The scaly hide was warm and smooth against the bare skin of his thighs, Claude noted as he slowly dragged his tongue over the breastbone, sliding himself down Lorenz’s body. Lorenz watched Claude intently. Those indigo eyes never strayed from their target, even as Claude felt the dragon’s breath grow shallower beneath him.

A bump to the rear made Claude pause. He turned to peer over his shoulder and noted with some pride that Lorenz’s shaft was starting to poke out of its sheath.

“Excited?” Claude asked teasingly. He didn’t wait for a reply, choosing to dismount instead so that he could lay his hands on the thing. Lorenz’s splutters of protest died as Claude groped the base of the sheath.

It was… big. Big was a word for it. The sheath alone was two hand-breadths long, and that wasn’t including the ruddy tip that had just poked out in interest. Claude took a steadying breath. He couldn’t have second thoughts now.

Gathering his courage, Claude bent over and nuzzled his cheek against it, batting his eyelashes up at Lorenz. See how he liked that. Claude breathed slowly, trying to control his nerves, and was suddenly overwhelmed by the scent of draconic arousal. The musk that Lorenz exuded smelled almost spicy, a heady aroma that made Claude’s pulse thrum as he breathed it in. _Oh boy,_ he thought as the cock twitched against his cheek, _this was going to be interesting._

The dragon’s cock swelled beneath his touch, the tapered head being followed by inch after inch of crimson shaft. Claude curled a gentle fist around the head. It was feverishly hot against his palm and throbbed when he squeezed. Lorenz made that rumbling purr again, his cock rousing more and more at Claude’s every stroke.

Claude drew back a little to admire his handiwork. Lorenz’s draconic cock had risen to its full height at last, and was an intimidating sight. It was nearly as long as Claude’s fore-arm and only a little slimmer, but with reptilian looking ridges and nubs along the shaft. The head was mercifully tapered at the tip, but it was strangely flattened at the top. Claude, feeling strangely weightless from breathing in so much musk, cupped his hand around the head and let his grip slide down the crimson shaft, all the way to the based where it faded to a dark violet knot. It was an incredibly erotic sight.

“You’re magnificent,” Claude murmured in awe. He bowed his head to mouth at the shaft, breathing in more of the delicious, intoxicating musk. Lorenz’s rumbling purr stuttered in his chest when Claude swiped his tongue along the ridge below the head.

Claude smirked, pleased. “Sensitive, huh?”

“Mmmn. You-you’re quite the tease,” Lorenz hissed softly. His eyes were half-lidded but focused on Claude’s every movement.

“Oh?” Claude raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter Lorenz? Not used to being played with?” He asked playfully, as he gently wrung the shaft between his hands. Lorenz squirmed beneath him, muscles tensing below Claude’s thighs. He chuckled. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“You’re an absolute cad,” Lorenz huffed. “Please continue.”

“Your wish is my command,” Claude replied with a wink.

Encouraged by Lorenz’s display, Claude continued to tug and tease the dragon’s shaft with his hands, marveling at the twitches and noises he could pull from the dragon. He thumbed at the bulbous base where it met the lip of the sheath. Lorenz’s cock throbbed in response and a clear drop of pre-cum beaded at the tip. Claude didn’t even _think_ of resisting the temptation. He took the head into his mouth and licked into the slit. To his delight, Lorenz tasted just as good as he smelled.

Lorenz growled in pleasure, his tail thrashing against the floor. Claude had only just hollowed out his cheeks to start sucking when he was hoisted bodily by clawed hands.

“Oof!” Claude grunted as his back hit the floor. He looked up to see Lorenz’s head between his legs, running his tongue over his long fangs. “Uh. Something wrong?”

“I’ve had enough of your teasing.” Lorenz’s voice sent a chill up Claude’s spine, hot breath washing over his bare crotch. “I plan on keeping you to your word, Claude von Riegan. You offered your body to me, and now it is my turn to have a taste.”

Claude gasped as the scalding, serpentine tongue delved into him. It was like getting into a too-hot bath, the wet heat of the dragon’s mouth upon him leaving his skin feel scorched and twice as sensitive. The flat dragged against the aching head of his clit while the forked tip lapped tenderly at his hole, and it was all Claude could do to grab the dragon by the horns and _moan_. It was like nothing he’d ever felt before. That long, sensuous tongue, hot and wet inside Claude’s own heat and wetness. Lorenz thrust the tip in deep and rumbled in satisfaction when Claude’s thighs seized against the sudden pleasure.

“Oh fuck. Oh Goddess,” Claude panted. Lorenz was alternating between circling his tongue around his clit and using it to fuck Claude’s cunt open. He could feel the forked tip tickle that hard-to-reach place inside him on every thrust. It made Claude see sparkles, made him gasp for breath. His chest was already heaving like a pair of bellows. “You’re really fucking good at this,” he said, half-delirious.

“Not good enough if you’re still talking,” Lorenz growled under his breath. He redoubled his efforts, curling his tongue into the deepest reaches of Claude’s pussy.

Claude felt himself writhe, his thighs tensed like a bow at full-draw under Lorenz’s talons. He shouted, he whined, he swore, loud and desperate as the dragon continued to tongue-fuck him without mercy. Every now and then the flat would hammer against his aching clit and the building tension of incoming orgasm would flare white-hot behind Claude’s eyes. It was amazing. It was torture. Lorenz curled his tongue into his sweet spot. And again. And _again_. Claude arched his hips off the floor, succumbing to the relentless assault of that fucking magnificent tongue.

All at once the tension snapped. Claude came with a yell, his voice going hoarse as he shuddered, sweating from the strain. Everything inside him seized, his cunt clenching around Lorenz’s tongue as orgasm rolled through him like a summer storm. His clit throbbed, his thighs trembled, and his eyes briefly stopped working as Claude gushed his euphoria into Lorenz’s mouth.

Slowly, Claude came back to himself. He could feel his pulse behind his eyes and between his legs. The floor against his back was comfortably cool. Claude sighed, the intensity of his release leaving him feeling wrung out and pleasantly boneless. Lorenz delicately lapped at the mess, triggering a shiver of aftershocks up Claude’s spine. He was so awash with pleasure that he almost didn’t notice the resonant tone of Lorenz murmuring something in ancient draconic until something inside him jolted with magic.

“Hang on!” Claude pushed the dragon’s muzzle aside with a sweaty hand. “Did you—did you use magic on my cunt just now?”

“It’s for your benefit,” Lorenz said dismissively, and then a little awkwardly, “it’s temporary anyhow.”

“My _benefit?_ ” Claude sat up to examine himself. Everything looked normal from the outside, but when he pushed a finger in he felt oddly… hollow? Claude spread himself open on his fingertips and marveled at the amount of stretch he was able to get away with all of a sudden. A moment of toying and realization clicked into place. “Ah. So that was your plan.”

Lorenz coughed delicately, drawing Claude’s attention back to the behemoth of a cockstand between the dragon’s legs.

“If you’re still willing…” the dragon said, undisguised hope in his voice.

“Well fuck,” Claude said with a laugh. He was still giddy from the phenomenal orgasm he’d just had, and couldn’t think of a real reason to decline. “I said I would, didn’t I?”

Before he could second guess himself, Claude was on the dragon’s chest again, Lorenz holding him in place with firm but careful claws, the feverish head of his cock grazing Claude’s labia. All it took was a gentle push, and suddenly the head was in. Claude gasped—at the heat, and at how easily his body accepted the intrusion. Lorenz pushed in deeper, turning the gasp into a luxurious moan.

“You’re so soft,” Lorenz purred, rapturous. “So tender around me. Oh Claude, you feel _wonderful._ ”

Bit by bit, Claude felt Lorenz penetrate him, his cunt stretching deliciously to accommodate more and more of the dragon’s cock. The magic had clearly done its job, allowing Lorenz to open Claude up without a shred of pain, only the wonderful pressure of being filled. Claude hissed, sensitive. He could even feel the ridges and barbs along the shaft, teasing his insides like he’d never felt before. It was enough that Claude wondered if he could orgasm from just that alone.

A bump interrupted his train of thought. He had stopped just above the uninflated knot, his labia stretched taught around the narrow top of the bulb. Claude glanced down and saw the faintest outline of a bulge, just below his belly-button. Dreamlike, Claude traced his finger tips over it. Had he really taken that much of it inside him?

He pressed his palm to it, experimental. Lorenz rumbled beneath him, the reverberations carrying all the way through to Claude’s bones. It was exquisite, being filled to the brim and aware of every inch. Claude could have lingered there for a long time, basking in the glow of Lorenz’s cock inside him. But Lorenz had other plans. Deciding that Claude was sufficiently adjusted, Lorenz held Claude in place by the hips and thrust up, sharp.

Claude gasped. Lorenz drew himself halfway out, pulling a long moan from Claude’s throat, turning it into a yell with the next thrust to the hilt. By the third thrust, Claude was breathless. By the fifth, he was thoughtless except for the overwhelming pleasure of being fucked. It was like nothing Claude had experienced. Lorenz’s cock, so magnificently huge, spreading his labia wide around the girthy knot, crammed deep into his pussy. He was being fucked by a _dragon_. Those ridges raked along his insides, drawing every drip of pleasure from Claude’s body until he was moaning himself hoarse.

Claude’s clit stuck out like a sore thumb above his stretched lips. It throbbed, bruised red from arousal, twitching ever closer to impending orgasm. The cock inside him felt so good, filled him so much. Every time the knot popped past his lips, he felt like he had been struck, the head of his clit forced free from its hood. Lorenz thrust deep and Claude shivered bodily. He felt so good, so overwhelmingly good. Lorenz’s battering ram of a cock forced everything else aside, his thoughts, his ambitions; his cunt too wonderfully full that it pushed his clit into the open. He looked down at his erection with blurry eyes. Goddess, he was so turned on.

Claude didn’t even need to touch himself to come. And flames, did he come, trembling and yelling, his pussy wringing the cock inside him like it had a grudge. Slick arousal spilled down Claude’s thighs as Lorenz fucked him through the high, his textured cock raking along the walls that clenched around him, drawing out the euphoria until Claude was practically sobbing for breath. And _still_ Lorenz kept fucking him. Orgasm rolled into aftershocks that didn’t so much subside as build until Claude wasn’t sure if he was still coming or was already half-way to another.

Dazed and riding on a wave of bliss, he distantly heard Lorenz growling something to him. The dragon’s thrusts were stuttering, his pupils blown wide enough to turn indigo to black.

“Please—” Lorenz begged, aimless.

Claude could guess what he meant.

“Inside,” he declared with post-orgasmic wisdom. “Come inside me, Lorenz.”

Lorenz roared in delight. He thrust himself to the hilt, pulling Claude flush to his sheath, burying himself in Claude’s warmth, knot and all. Claude hummed against the smooth scales as he felt the first hot splash of semen spill inside him. It warmed him through like mulled wine. He sighed happily, luxuriating in the feeling until a sudden pressure made him gasp.

Lorenz's knot swelled to its full girth inside him, sealing him tight. Claude choked on a whine as his inner walls were crushed by the pressure of it. Then the cock throbbed viciously, and he was promptly overwhelmed by the absolute torrent of cum that followed. It was too much. Claude was helpless as he came again on the dragon's cock, which only served to make Lorenz squirm, drawing out their mutual orgasm until they were both an overstimulated mess of bliss.

Claude collapsed against Lorenz's scales, heaving like a pair of bellows as he tried to regain his breath. His body ached in new and interesting ways. Underneath him, Lorenz seemed equally worse for wear, judging by his lolling tongue and unfocused gaze. And his still very hard and very stuck cock, Claude realized with a wince. He had unthinkingly tried to move, but all it did was send a shudder of aftershocks up his spine. A trickle of semen just barely managing to leak out, staining the tip of Claude’s clit with white. He felt obscenely stuffed. Claude groaned.

“Are you alright?” Lorenz lifted his head to ask. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

“You’re fantastic,” Claude said with a contented sigh, resigning himself to an indeterminate period of being comfortably trapped by the dragon. “I’ll be sore in the morning, but I have no regrets.”

Lorenz craned his long neck down to nose gently at Claude’s shoulder. “You were truly wonderful yourself, Claude,” the dragon purred softly. “You had better return soon after you’ve delivered your treasure. I feel like I already miss your company.”

Claude chuckled. He pressed his forehead against the smooth scales of Lorenz’s snout and said “Forget the treasure. I’d be an idiot to not come back for you, Lorenz.”

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this in late November but it ended up getting way out of hand. Thank goodness for Claurenz Week giving me an excuse to post this with some amount of fanfare.
> 
> Thank you also to the secret passions dot net group chat for cheering me on and indulging in my monsterfucking whims. You're the best. ;^)


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